"I think that sums up the mailbox issue," said Heather Brandt with satisfaction. She turned her fierce green stare towards Linda Carmichael, daring her to object. Linda was clearly still upset by Heather's decision, but in the face of Heather's challenging gaze, she dipped her eyes in submission and stayed silent.
Just like things should be, thought Heather smugly. With the dirt that Heather had on Linda, the timid little housewife knew better than to step out of line. No matter how badly her husband wanted a tacky novelty mailbox.
If Linda was stupid enough to question Heather's iron rule of the suburb's homeowners association and social scene, she would be drowned in a tide of nasty rumors.
"Just one last agenda item," said Heather primly, using a well-manicured hand to sweep back her waves of deep red hair, "The new occupant of 221 Sandhill."
The other members of the HOA looked at each other nervously. Gossip traveled rapidly through the suburb, and they already knew about their leader's displeasure with the new resident.
"Filthy car, no lawn care, no yard decoration, loud television use at all hours, unkempt appearance, odor problems," said Heather, her shining green eyes growing cold and steely as she rattled off the list of what were, in her opinion, unforgivable offenses.
"He can't even put out his garbage cans correctly," said Heather with disdain. "I can confirm all of these issues from personal experience, because, as you are all aware, Mr. Carver is my next-door neighbor." No one dared to speak. It wasn't wise to interrupt Queen Brandt once she was on a rampage.
"Sandra, I want you over to his house to measure his lawn. If it's a centimeter over, I want the fine in the mail by end of day," snapped Heather. Sandra nervously bobbed her head in compliance.
"George, I want you at his house while he is at work. Take photos of the paint on his house. The guidelines on chipping and fading are vague. We can use that to our advantage. Find examples of both and send them to me." George nodded, scribbling on his notepad.
"I need someone to make a noise complaint call tonight," continued Heather, her eyes making contact with her lackeys around the room, "If too many complaints come from me, the police will start to disregard them."
Linda timidly raised a hand. "I can make a call, Heather," She said sheepishly. Heather smiled and gave her an indulgent nod, "Thank you, Linda." It was important to welcome her followers back into the fold when they recognized her dominance properly.
"Ummm, excuse me?" said a mousy middle-aged woman in glasses, "It seems improper to use our powers as the HOA to target an individual we have personal problems with." The short woman was frowning with a determined look on her face.
Heather sighed.
Why couldn't people be more like dogs? Her beloved corgi Trigger had started to get a little unruly this past summer, so they had hired a local girl as a trainer. Heather had listened raptly as the trainer explained how to discipline dogs. The key was to establish yourself as the Alpha. Once dogs saw you as the leader, they were loyal and eager to please, responding unfailingly to punishments and rewards. Humans were more complicated: they were always testing and questioning and raising objections. It was exhausting.
Heather supposed it was necessary to reestablish her Alpha credentials.
The woman who had spoken up had moved into the neighborhood fairly recently. This was her first Homeowners' Association meeting. Well, it was time that she learned how things worked around here.
"That's one perspective, Muriel," said Heather delicately. The rest of the room watched in terrified anticipation, barely daring to breathe. "But another way to think about it is that we're protecting the neighborhood. If we have a loud, dirty neighbor, it could lower all of our property values."
Muriel shook her head with a grimace. She looked like she was about to say something, but Heather overrode her with the solid, unstoppable momentum of a steamroller: "For example, if someone moved into the neighborhood, and their husband had three DUIs in the past... Well, it might just be better to let everyone know, so they could watch out while driving."
Heather watched with satisfaction as Muriel's grew white with shock. Heather didn't let anyone join the HOA unless she was certain she had what she needed to keep them under her thumb. Older women always assumed that they could treat the younger Heather like a little girl. But Heather was the Alpha, and everyone else in this suburb was just her loyal bitches.
"I think you'll be helping us out by making a noise complaint tonight, right Muriel?" asked Heather sweetly.
"Y-yes, Heather," said the new member obediently.
"Good girl," said Heather.
...
It had been a productive meeting. Heather was sure that the repugnant Mr. Carver wouldn't be able to last long against the blizzard of fines.
Heather was in an excellent mood right up until she got home and noticed the blue car in the driveway. She frowned. That was Jackie's car. Why was the dog trainer here so late? Trigger's last walk should have been over an hour ago. Was something wrong with her precious pup?
She rushed inside, worried about her corgi, only to find a much different problem happening on the living room couch.
Her husband Luke was right in the middle of a passionate make-out session with their 19-year-old dog trainer and walker, Jackie.
One of Jackie's small hands was busy inside Luke's pants, while the other ran its fingers through his thick blond hair. As the young woman noticed Heather, standing shocked and appalled in the doorway, she didn't react with surprise or fear. Instead, the little brat fucking smiled against her husband's mouth, her lovely almond-shaped eyes glittering with amusement as she increased the speed of her hand.
Heather Brandt took a deep breath, staring at the impudent little brat enjoying her husband, and screamed her rage.
...
"I know that you are highly in demand," said Heather Brandt in an annoyed tone, bouncing a foot irritably on her crossed leg, "But I have to say, it really is poor customer service to make me wait so long for a meeting, Miss Faria."
Faria cooly assessed the women seated in her office. Heather Brandt gave the impression of wild, dangerous beauty carefully tamed and controlled. Her long dark red hair was lustrous and thick, and her deep green eyes flashed with confident intelligence. She was a tall, imposing woman, with a curvy hourglass figure hidden completely by her extremely conservative blouse and mom jeans. Where was the fun in having such captivatingly round breasts if you insisted on covering them up? thought Faria sourly.
"Well, my apologies, ma'am," responded Faria sardonically, "Would you like to speak to my manager?"
Heather's eyes narrowed as the joke landed. She was clearly a woman who was used to being the biggest bitch in the room. Faria was absolutely certain that every stranger Heather met had the same word flash through their mind.